Jellicles Sleep
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: There's a storm coming, and the Jellicles take shelter together in the Junkyard. Just a short piece about cats in the rain.


Hi, so...yeah, I'm actually writing a fic again. Weird.

This is my first Cats fic, and I just saw the movie a week ago. I'm such a pushover for pretty dancing and costumes...and the music ain't bad either. But it's the characters that develop the more you watch it, and that really make the musical what it is. Also, all my RENT buds, RENT is still my main musical. But I wonder, what if Mimi found a kitty and...no, no.

Yeah, anyway. I like Mistoffelees/Victoria as siblings OR a couple; I wrote them here as the latter. Whatevs. Love to all Jellicles out there.

* * *

The Jellicles smelled it before it came. Sweet, musty, with a hint of earth and electricity in it…the Junkyard was ripe with the scent of rain long before a single drop fell. Maybe an ordinary cat would have paused in his daily life, sniffed the air, shrugged, and gone on his merry way. But the Jellicle cats knew much better. They knew from the first whiff of stormy air that the only place to be was inside, safe from the thunder and rain.

The dens, usually empty during the twilight hours, were suddenly full and busy as their occupants ran to escape the downpour. Cats ran here and there, settling in with friends and mates. Meows and snarls echoed through the Junkyard: the sounds of Jellicles seeking out their own shelter for the night.

In the rusted old car trunk, Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks nestled down together. Skimble glanced worriedly at his pocket watch, muttering something about the midnight Glasgow and whether or not a rain delay would cause too much trouble. Jenny would have soothed him, except she was too busy scolding the mice and roaches who were still scrambling around, too stupid to take cover from the rain. She snapped her paws and batted them over the heads, and finally they skittered out of sight underneath her den.

Coricopat and Tantomile, hiding beneath an upturned sink, walked in three very precise circles and then lay down together, their heads on each other's flanks and their tails forming a protective ring around their little den. The rest of the cats watched them for any sign of warning or future trouble; when they saw that the clairvoyant twins were sound asleep, a quiet sigh ran through the Junkyard, and previously anxious, tense bodies began to soften. Cats hunkered down and readied themselves for sleep. Rain, especially quiet thunderstorms like the one ahead, often brought drowsiness to Jellicles; though in this way, they weren't so very different from the rest of the world.

A laundry hamper, full of old rags and scraps, had been turned on its side, and a den had been hollowed out within the cozy bundle of fabrics. Inside, Munkustrap peered out in to the Junkyard, doing a quick body check to make sure all the Jellicles were safe and accounted for. Beside him, Demeter washed Jemima's ears and nuzzled her daughter's scruff. The kitten yawned and kneaded the rags beneath her feet, pushing them around to create a little sleeping indentation for herself.

Suddenly lightning flashed, and for a moment the Junkyard was pure white and black, shadows leaping forward like wolves to swallow Jellicles out in the open. Jemima hissed and hid behind her parents, her fur standing on end. Munkustrap put an arm around her and held her close, while Demeter softly touched her mate's shoulder. He smiled and nuzzled her over Jemima's head.

In Jellylorum's cardboard box of a den, Gus snuffled a little and shifted in his sleep. Beside him, Electra and Etcetera huddled together, close enough to Gus to lend his shriveled frame body heat, but far enough to avoid the dust in his fur and his smell of age and dead spiders. Jellylorum sat between them, one paw soothing the nervous mass of kitten beside her, the other gently stroking Gus' brow. Jellylorum had always been a nature-loving Jellicle, and now she smiled and purred quietly as thunder rumbled. The kittens squeaked and drew closer to her, while Gus murmured something about climbing a curtain pull.

Lightning flashed again, and the Rum Tum Tugger, lounging in an abandoned car seat that sat beneath a hanging tarpaulin, smiled as well. He'd enjoyed many a thunderstorm, yowling at the raindrops and outracing the lightning; but tonight, he stayed inside, his luxurious mane dry and silky. Some thunderstorms were for curiosity and adventure; others were for sleeping and resting.

Or so he thought. A loud hiss made him start as Bombalurina scurried into his shelter, her fur spiky and her claws drawn as she retreated from the boom of thunder overhead. He narrowed his eyes and flicked his tail as she pulled herself together, combing her whiskers and quickly grooming her ears, before turning and feigning surprise that it was his den she'd run into. The leftover static in her red fur made it stand on end, and she was breathing heavily from the dash and the fright. Her eyes glittered as she looked him up and down, a slow grin forming on her face.

"You scared of a little thunder?" Tugger drawled, tossing back his mane. Bombalurina laughed deep in her throat and came closer, her tail hanging low behind her.

"I'm not scared of anything, Tugger. You should know that," she purred. With a casual leap she was beside him, her flank pressing against his. He rolled his eyes and returned her grin.

"I don't remember letting you in."

"I don't remember asking you to," she replied, and laid her head on his chest. He chuckled and ran his claws through the fur on her head. She snuggled closer and nipped his ear; he retaliated by digging a single claw into her waist. She jumped, laughed, and leaned down to nuzzle his mane. Outside, another flash of lightning and its accompanying thunder drowned out the giggles and purrs from within that particular den.

Now the rain finally began to fall, and across the Junkyard faint meows greeted it. It was thick and hard, coming down in relentless sheets, and the few cats still left outside scrambled for safety. Admetus and Carbucketty made a mad dash for cover and just made it, panting and crouched beneath an old box of crackers. Bustopher Jones, his spats splashing wetly in the newly formed puddles, lumbered over to a rickety end table, which he squeezed underneath with a lot of blustering and coughing. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, who were just sneaking back to the Junkyard after a very successful job in the West End, hissed and yowled in protest as their fur got soaked. The pair of thieves ran for the closest available den, but were forced back by an angry Alonzo and Tumblebrutus, who had both been about to fall asleep. Still complaining loudly, Mungojerrie clambered up a series of discarded dining room chairs and disappeared into a hollow formed by the cushions of the top two. Rumpleteazer was right behind him, and once inside they paced unhappily, shaking themselves dry and getting each other wetter in the process.

Beneath them, Cassandra lounged majestically by herself on an old hassock with stuffing coming out of the sides and a broken leg. It was covered by a trash can lid propped on the arm of the big couch, which was beginning to release a harsh smell of mothballs and wet wool as the rain poured on to it. Cassandra, watching it get slowly wetter and wetter, was startled by the arrival of Plato, who ran in just as another jagged gash of lightning split the sky. He crouched on the ground, sopping wet, hissing and spitting at the rain. Cassandra observed him with a look of quiet amusement; she stayed so still, sprawled like a queen upon a litter, that Plato got his feet, shook himself dry, and gave the rain one last glare before catching sight of her.

"Oh…I'm sorry," he said with surprise. He blinked and bowed, looking up to take in her lithe limbs and sleek coat. Cassandra did not reply; she merely stared at him, a slight smile on her lips. "Do…do you wish me to leave?"

"No," she finally answered, the smile widening a fraction. Plato blushed and climbed up beside her, keeping his distance from the shadowy Abyssinian.

"I didn't mean to disturb you…I was trying to find Victoria before the rain started, and then…well, I hope she's all right," Plato trailed off, staring out into the pouring rain. Cassandra swiveled her head slowly, her eyes narrow and luminous.

"I'm sure she is," she said quietly in her deep, velvety voice. Plato blushed again and kneaded the hassock a little. As the rain kept falling, he gradually began to relax, his shoulders and eyelids drooping. Soon he was curled up on the hassock, his head resting on Cassandra's flank. She watched him and kept on smiling, until her own eyes closed and she delicately laid her head down on her folded arms. She was still smiling.

Outside, the rain fell and fell and fell. It was like living underwater, with the roar of waves rising and ebbing as the wind blew through the rain. Thunder crashed and lightning sparked, and all the cats slept.

Except for two.

Victoria dashed through the Junkyard, her beautiful white fur slimy and waterlogged. She scrambled over some tires (very nearly missing Pouncival and Exotica, who were curled in each other's arms), up a broken ladder strung with Christmas lights, and executed a flying leap that sent her crashing into a pile of soggy old magazines. Sputtering and meowing pitifully, she pushed aside globs of pulpy advertisements and kept moving, jumping and hissing at every flash of lightning.

Finally, Victoria found what she was looking for; or, at least, what she thought she was looking for. She peeped inside the ripped-out car glovebox, expecting to see a very familiar cat. Instead, she saw two familiar cats—and the wrong ones. Old Deuteronomy, his massive body curled into a huge ball of fur, lay peacefully on one side of the glovebox. She could just see the side of his loving old face, eyes closed in serene slumber. But much stranger than the beloved Jellicle leader was the other damp, bedraggled cat lying in the glovebox: Grizabella, whom Victoria had seen only a few times before, skulking sadly around the edges of the Junkyard. The old Glamour Cat was folded up in the corner, careful to not touch Old Deuteronomy, her grey coat hanging off her skinny body. Though her withered face was still in its perpetual grimace, a semblance of peace lingered over it as well, as though the mere presence of the old Jellicle cat beside her was enough to wipe away some of her cares. Victoria mewed very quietly and might have kept on looking for a while longer, but a tremendous boom of thunder sent her yowling and spitting for safety. Neither of the older cats stirred as the young white kitten streaked away through the pouring rain.

It took a whole minute of scurrying across the Junkyard before Victoria managed to find the correct destination: a large industrial toolbox that the cat inside had lined with an old towel. She found it just as the brightest flash of lightning yet ripped through the air. With a final screech of fright, she darted inside.

Mistoffelees jumped and instinctively put up his claws, though he sheathed them again immediately when he realized who it was. The tuxedo cat was in his less powerful and flashy form, the plain black-and-white Jellicle that everybody called Quaxo or Misto; the name Mr. Mistoffelees was reserved for the greatest magician in the world, the cat whose coat sparkled and shimmered, and who had more magic playing around the tips of his fingers than any other cat in existence.

"Victoria? Goodness, what happened?" he asked with genuine concern. Victoria glared at him and paced angrily. Her fur stuck tightly to her pink skin, which showed through in some places. Her ears seemed huge, as did her paws and head; the rest of her looked scrawny. She hissed at the sky, swiping at it with a paw.

"Ridiculous weather! I'm freezing and tired and soaking wet, and now it scares the Jellicle out of me with thunder and lightning!" Victoria shrieked, pacing even faster. Quaxo had to suppress a smile at his fellow kitten's expense. It was hard not to be amused by the angry words that came out half-squeak, half-mew, especially when she looked as funny as she did. Unfortunately, Victoria caught sight of the smile and directed her furious eyes towards him. He held up his paws, as if to ward off a coming blow.

"All right, all right…poor little Jellicle. I'm sorry the rain's so cruel to you. Here, let me help." Quaxo concentrated and waved his arms, his paws drawing little patterns in the air. Victoria was about to ask smarmily what exactly he was doing when she interrupted herself with a gasp: her sodden coat was suddenly dry, the poofy white fur as soft and silky as always. She took a moment to admire her beautiful sleek haunches, then squealed happily and threw herself at the tuxedo cat, who looked quite pleased with himself.

"Thank you, Misto, thank you so much! How did you do it?"

"Presto," he said cheerfully, grinning at her. She smiled back and nuzzled him lovingly, her soft paws brushing his hair back from his face. He purred and rubbed against her, their tails intertwining. Outside, thunder sounded again, low and deep like a far-off army of drums. Victoria pressed close to Quaxo, her white fur standing out against his black. He leaned down and kneaded a sleeping burrow in the towel, gentlemanly ushering her into it. She gladly nestled into the soft cloth, tugging him down beside her. They snuggled into each other, purring deep in their throats.

"Misto?..."

"Mmhhm?"

"I saw something earlier…something strange."

"What did you see?"

"Old Deuteronomy was sleeping in the car box…and he had another cat with him. That old grey queen…Grizabella?"

"I'm not surprised. Even she has to take shelter during a storm like this one…and no one but Old Deuteronomy would give it to her."

"Do you think everyone else knows about it?"

"Of course not. Grizabella wouldn't want them to…she's too sad and alone to let the rest of us think someone reached out to her."

"But Misto—"

"Shush, love. Sleep now."

"Bossy Jellicle," she murmured, brushing her whiskers over his face. He purred louder and pulled her flush against him.

Outside, the rain continued to fall steadily and hard. The Jellicle cats slumbered and snoozed, none of them sleeping alone. If the rain had stopped, one might have a heard a long, low, thrumming purr coming from all corners of the Junkyard.

Jellicle cats sleep in the rain.


End file.
